


One of Them Girls

by overtheunrealisticlove



Category: LoveLink (Video Game)
Genre: Albert is a hopeless romantic, Army, Bars and Pubs, F/M, Fist Fights, One Shot, Sexual Tension, Slow Dancing, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:28:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29190822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overtheunrealisticlove/pseuds/overtheunrealisticlove
Summary: That gains his attention and he finally lifts his head, trying to read your doe-eyed expression. He decides to risk it. “You sure it’s not just an excuse to stare at my lips like you’ve been doing this whole time?”You only arch a brow, tilting your head to the side. “As if you haven’t been looking at mine all night.”
Relationships: Albert Bishop/Reader
Comments: 7
Kudos: 21





	One of Them Girls

**Author's Note:**

> I miss Albert so much that I ended up writing 20 pages.....  
> Anyway, enjoy! :)  
> @overtheunrealisticlove on Tumblr.

A smirk graces Albert’s lips as loud cheers erupt behind him, knowing instantly that you’ve won another pool game – you’d been running that table all night. He can’t help sneaking a glance, watching as your girlfriends jump around you in drunken joy before his gaze falls to you.

It’s then, in the curl of your long dark lashes and the hand that you bat against the guy you’ve just beat, when the clenching sensation presses down on his throat. When he feels his fingers wrap a little tighter around the too-warm whiskey he’s sipped at for an hour now.

Your laugh seems to rise above the soft country music as you send your opponent a teasing wink—an unconscious arrow sent right towards Albert, alluringly sweet in its intensity.

The guy you’ve been playing with is tall, even taller than Albert himself, and dare he say, even handsome. Dark chocolate waves fall on his forehead as he leans towards you, a sparkle in his eye and a mischievous smile on his lips. Albert’s been waiting for him to make a move all night. Ready for you to leave with someone that isn’t him.

Albert is much too far to hear, but you say something short, a sweet smile on your face. The guy laughs and mockingly salutes you before he grabs his beer and walks to the back of the bar. A group of lads are there, including some of Albert’s own friends, watching a rerun game on the small flatscreen perched in the corner.

Any other day he’d be back there with them, pretending to give a damn about current sport events. It was fun to pretend sometimes. To pretend he was normal and had never been witness to all the kinds of fucked up shit one could only experience in the military.

He didn’t much care for pretending tonight.

Instead, he had discretely perched himself on this one bar stool that overlooked the entire bar and had been sitting alone the entire evening watching you flit between the crowd with a carefree ease and an intoxicating smile.

All the while trying to find some liquid courage. Some semblance of confidence to walk up to you and ask your name and not trip over his words like he had done when he was a teen sporting a tall, lanky body and a nose too big for his face.

He hadn’t had trouble flirting or talking to a pretty girl in a very long time. He grew into himself over the years, and wasn’t blind to the appreciative glances he received from others. He was a couple of inches taller and now towered over most people, not to mention he’d put on a shit load of muscle since joining the army. One of the perks of the job.

But none of that acquired confidence had mattered. Not since you had walked into the bar earlier and had completely captivated him despite his tumbling thoughts.

You had walked in, so casually catching the attention of everyone in here, yet not sparing them a long enough glance enough for them to do anything about it.

You were beyond beautiful, wrapped up in a flowing sundress and wearing soft makeup that accentuated your features, even under the dimmed lights of the dark bar.

He’d been coming to this spot with his team for a few weeks, but tonight was the first time he’d seen you. A welcomed surprise to say the least.

Ryan had discovered this place during one of his many dates and enjoyed it so much he dragged them down here the next day. It was pretty average as far as bars went, with good drinks and pretty bartenders. The crowd was the main reason him and the guys kept coming back. It was always the same people hanging around. A stranger here and there would wander in sometimes, but the bar seemed to run on regulars.

For a couple of soldiers whose first instinct is to scope out entry and exit points, having consistency with the folks that surrounded them offered some peace of mind.

A hand suddenly drops on his shoulder and his body tenses, preparing for a fight. Hypervigilance and unwarranted paranoia also came with the job, but PTSD wasn’t something the army had spoken to him about when he was initially recruited.

He didn’t regret enlisting, he knew had had an important job to do, was damn good at it too. But man, he couldn’t remember the last time he didn’t flinch when someone caught him by surprise.

Ryan takes a seat on the empty barstool next to him, dressed in his usual flannel and sporting some cowboy boots the team had given him plenty of shit over earlier. “Bishop, my man. I don’t know what crawled up your ass today, but you’ve been especially broody all night and it’s killing my vibe.”

“I’m surprised you detached yourself from that girl long enough to notice,” Albert replies.

Ryan had separated from the group within five minutes of arriving and had been busy making out with a blonde ever since.

“Is that jealousy I’m detecting, Bishop? If you want a bit of me, all you have to do is ask,” Ryan winks flirtatiously. Albert can’t help but smirk, knowing he’s only half kidding. “Seriously though, we didn’t bring you out tonight to be all doom and gloom.”

“Sorry for the inconvenience,” he mumbles, and can’t help rolling his eyes in annoyance. He’d never been good at hiding his feelings, a habit that caused him more trouble than it was worth. The additional drills he had done evidence enough that his commanders hadn’t appreciated his attitude any more than his parents had.

“I’m just trying to enjoy the music and my drink. I don’t need to have my tongue shoved down a girl’s throat for that.”

Ryan leans back against the barstool, and while he looks the picture of relaxed, Albert notices the way he’s been scoping out the place. Jaw a little tight, knee bouncing up and down—always alert.

“Those are fighting words, Bishop. But I’m going to let it go because I happen to know you haven’t gotten laid in months. It’s becoming very stressful to me.”

Albert contemplates telling him to fuck off but he can understand the curiosity, considering he had gone from the occasional hookup here and there, to having absolutely none.

Was he feeling the tension? Fuck yeah, he was.

Albert liked sex, always had, and hadn’t ever been shy about the fun he’d had. But how could he even begin to explain that casual sex just wasn’t cutting it anymore? He wasn’t sure he understood it himself. All he knew was that while there had been a few flings here and there, nothing had come of them besides making him aware that he wasn’t suited for casual dating.

He already knew that. He was a one-person kind of man and nothing would change that. Once he was in, he was all in. He didn’t know any other way.

There was too much instability in his life, too many changing variables because of his job, and he didn’t want loving someone to be one of them.

“Glad to know you have such a personal interest in my sex life,” he answers simply. He appreciated the concern, but he wasn’t comfortable sharing the reason for his temper with anyone. Not when hadn’t yet completely accepted it himself.

Not to mention Ryan would laugh his way to hell if he knew Albert was looking for a sincere connection. Considering their line of work? He couldn’t really blame him. Nothing seemed very serious when you stared at death itself in the eye every day.

Ryan shrugs dismissively, smiling at a brunette across the bar. “If not me, then who? You’re obviously doing jack shit about it.”

“Ryan,” Albert groans, brows knitting together as he begins to feel a hint of irritation. “This isn’t really the time or place-“

“You ain’t fooling anyone Albert, we all know you’re a kinky motherfucker,” Ryan winks before taking a sip from his drink. “I’m just trying to help you out, for the wellbeing of my country, and the rest of our team who is as tired of your shit as I am. There’s plenty of beautiful ladies here tonight. Or fellas, if that’s what you want.”

Albert shakes his head. Ryan’s carefree attitude reminded him so much of his older brother, Luke, that it made him want to cry sometimes. “Just not feeling it today man.”

For a second, he thinks Ryan might let it go, but that’s too much to hope for from someone as nosy as an eighty-year old grandmother. “You gonna tell me what’s got your feathers all ruffled, or do I have to get you drunk first?”

He reminds himself to not look over at you a bit too late. His eyes find you in the middle of the dance floor, dancing a complicated two-step that he’d never willingly attempt for the sake of his own dignity. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little mesmerized by the careless smile on your face, or the way your hair flew in absolute abandon at your quick movements.

The absolute joy radiating off you was practically infectious.

He freezes – body going tense as your gaze lifts, meeting his.

_Fucking caught._

Full of shock at your sudden movement he quickly turns his head. He hopes Ryan hasn’t followed his gaze to you, but a wide, teasing smile is already lighting up the soldier’s face.

Because of course he fucking notices. It wouldn’t be Ryan if he didn’t annoy the shit out of him.

“Ya sure it ain’t got anything to do with that pretty little thing over there?” Ryan asks, nodding towards you as his eyes light up with excitement.

“Let it go Ryan,” he pleads, knowing how foolish this situation is and not really in the mood to shine light on his insecurities. Especially knowing damn well Ryan was going to go blab to the rest of their team as soon as he got the chance.

Albert knew his team respected him and followed his orders in the field. But outside in the real world? He could never live anything down. God knew they didn’t need any more material to use against him.

Ryan pauses, looking side to side before he leans forward. “Please tell me you haven’t been sitting here with a stick up your ass when you could be dancing with that firecracker instead?”

“What of it?” He snaps harshly, and he’s starting to sound defensive but he can’t help it.

He knows he’s acting like an absolute idiot and should have asked you for a dance ages ago. Perhaps you’d sit down for a couple of drinks with him afterwards. But he knows himself. Knows that you’re exactly his type, and should you be interested, he’d be an absolute goner.

A night wouldn’t cut it. Not for him. Not ever again.

But he’s waiting on orders, has been for a month now. Has no idea when the team will be called out – could be a day, could be weeks. He saw no point in starting anything he couldn’t stay to see through.

He sighs resentfully, throwing back the glass he’s been staring at this whole time. The heavy warmth flowing down his throat for the third time that night.

He knew what he signed up for, at least the pretty things his country liked to sell eager men, but it didn’t make it any easier to accept.

Not when his life was becoming a collection of missed opportunities.

“You ain’t losing anything by asking her to dance!” Ryan chuckles, running his fingers through his hair.

He can’t help the grimace that overtakes his face. “She’s not interested,” he huffs.

Ryan scoffs and crosses his arms. “How the hell she tell you that if you’ve been sitting on your ass this whole time?”

“She’s practically rejected everyone in this room,” he continues, a slow, knowing smirk playing on his lips, “including you.”

He recalls the trail of guys walking away from you in rejection as he watched from the sidelines in faint amusement. Damn had he had a field day when Ryan’s misplaced confidence had led him straight to you. He’d said something too low for Albert to make out, but you had instantly thrown your head back in laughter. By the look on Ryan’s face, whatever he’d said to you hadn’t meant to be funny. He walked away shortly after that, but not before taking one of your friends with him.

Albert wished he’d recorded it, if only to play it back for his team later.

“Rejection keeps me humble,” Ryan says with a shrug of his shoulders, “but that’s not the point. She hasn’t rejected you, not yet anyway. So why the hell are you still sitting here?”

“Well unlike you, I know how to take a hint. I’m not about to go bother a girl that don’t want to be bothered.”

Ryan’s head cocks to the side, curiously eyeing Albert for a moment. “You are so dim headed. I don’t know how I put my life in your hands every day.”

“I want you to remember saying that when you’re freezing your balls off during extra drills on Wednesday,” he threatens, and laughs when Ryan’s eyes widen in fear.

He truly did enjoy being the squad leader, if only for moments like these when he could use the fear of god against his teammates.

“You boys might as well order another drink if you’re going to keep arguing all night,” a smooth voice interrupts. They both turn towards the bartender, a pretty redhead with tattoos covering every inch of her. He’d spoken to her a bit earlier and learned her name was Lana- a new hire was apparently already very popular with the crowd by the looks of her tip jar.

“If you would be so kind, ma’am. My friend here needs some liquid courage.” Ryan’s voice changes to a smooth drawled out tone as he speaks to Lana, accentuating his native southern accent. He tended to slip into his roots whenever he was trying to woo anyone. Albert didn’t understand the attraction, but knowing Ryan’s numbers, it was working.

“Liquid courage, huh? Who you trying to impress soldier?” Lana asks, multitasking as she mixes their drinks, confidence in every movement despite the large bottles she’s handling. Ryan points you out before Albert can stop him, and he’s not sure how to feel when she laughs and shakes her head. “Oh, you’ll definitely be needing that drink then.”

“You know her?” Albert can’t help but ask. His curiosity outweighing any sense of discretion.

“Enough to know you’re going to need some luck to get her attention. She doesn’t date, not seriously anyway.” She slides the drinks down and rests her hip on the counter, wiping her hands on a cloth. “And I know how you soldier boys are. Ready to put a ring on it as soon as orders hit.”

“She just here for the party, then?” Ryan points out.

Lana nods, but there’s a small smile on her lips, as if she knows a secret they don’t. “Try not to look too disappointed soldier,” she leans into the counter towards Albert, her voice going low. “I happen to know you’re definitely her type.”

“He’s everyone’s type,” Ryan insists, taking a sip of his drink with a smirk. “Have you seen those pretty eyes of his? Bet, he’d have her–“

“His eyes _are_ very pretty,” someone chimes behind them, cutting into their conversation and sounding completely amused.

He knows he fails to hide his surprise when he quickly turns to look behind him, the sudden movement almost causing him to fall off the damn stool.

His face instantly heats up as you’re suddenly standing right in front of him. All he can do is stare at you blankly as he attempts to rein in the absolute mortification he’s feeling knowing you had most likely heard them talking about you.

_But wait, had you said his eyes were pretty?_

You give him a curious smile before turning your attention to Lana. “Can I get a whiskey? Neat, please.”

He manages to glance away from you just in time to see Lana’s eyebrow’s shoot up in surprise at your order, but you shake your head slightly, and she leaves to get your drink without a word.

He catches Ryan’s eye, his friend looking anything but casual as he winks at him. Albert is well versed in friends you love but equally want to kill, and right now he’d do anything to wipe that shit-eating grin off Ryan’s face.

He’s in the process of flipping Ryan off and barely has time to compose himself before you’re suddenly looking back over your shoulder. “Have you seen Mila?”

Ryan’s face is full of confusion at your question. “Who’s Mila?”

You snort before shaking your head. “The blonde whose lipstick is still all over your neck.”

Albert hadn’t cared enough to notice, but there is in fact hints of pink lipstick all over his friend’s collar.

Ryan at least has the nerve to look sheepish. “Can’t say I have. I think she mentioned she was heading out.”

“Figures,” you add, a slight smile behind your words. “She was my ride home.”

“Really?” Ryan asks, casually leaning forward with an easy smile. “Let me know if you require any assistance, angel.”

You instantly take a step back, the small of your back softly grazing Albert’s thigh.

“No, thanks. _Angel,_ ” you tease, playfully rolling your eyes before turning your full attention to Albert, who’s been quietly watching the exchange. “Does your friend have a mute button?”

He chuckles, surprised at your words. “Ignoring him for long enough usually works. His ego can’t take it.”

The look on Ryan’s face tells him he’s suffering hard holding back a comment, but Lana interjects. “Come with me to the back, soldier,” she says, winking without a trace of shame as she takes off her apron and hides it behind a counter. “I’m on break.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ryan smirks. He starts walking towards Lana, but not before hurriedly turning back to take Albert’s shot, swallowing it down in one motion.

They’re a flurry of giggles and wandering hands as they head towards the back exit. But he’s not paying much attention to them anymore. Neither are you.

“Can’t say I’ve ever met anyone with his level of confidence,” you cheerily greet as you plop down on the neighboring barstool. He tries not to look to elated that you’re obviously planning to stay awhile.

Your sweet perfume seems to mingle in the air between you, something floral and soft – warm and comforting to match your dress and kind smile.

“Trust me, it’s highly misplaced,” he shakes his head. “I apologize for him, he’s straightforward but pretty harmless.”

“What about you?” You ask, quirking your head to the side and he tries to not appear ruffled at the intensity in your gaze.

“What about me?” he says, following your finger as it drags along the rim of your glass, catching a drop of condensation.

“Are you also pretty harmless?” You question, eyelashes fluttering as you slow your gaze to take him up and down.

“For the most part,” he chuckles softly. “Although, I can let you be the judge of that.”

You hum with a nod, “What’s your name, soldier?”

“Soldier?” He asks, eyebrows instantly furrowing.

You send him a sheepish smile. “Civilians usually aren’t that on edge.”

No argument there. He rubs the back of his neck as he fails to avoid your gaze. “Caught that, did ya?”

“Military family,” you shrug. “Pretty obvious when you know what to look for.”

“That mean you’ve been watching?” he teases, raising an eyebrow.

“Can you blame me? There was a handsome man sitting alone at the bar.” You tease, voice low and smooth– your words only for him. “I was curious.”

“Name’s Albert,” he replies, confidence peaking at the pleasant flush on your face. “Army, Special Forces.”

“Impressive,” you reply, quietly quipping back your own name. “How’s that going for you?”

“Not an easy job,” he answers, your eyes softening at his truth. “Some days are better than others. But I’m good at what I do.”

You nod in acknowledgement. “I’m sure you are. What made you enlist?”

“It was an easy choice back then. I’m not dumb enough to think I can change the world, but I like going to sleep every day knowing I’ve tried to make a difference.” 

The half-lie stretches taunt now, painful and sharp as memories of the past try to dig themselves free from the place he so carefully hid them away in.

He had enlisted because he wanted his life to mean something. He wanted to more than his troublesome youth. More than the continuous fist fights that banned him from several locations in his hometown. More than the disappointed tears on his parents faces, or the stern speeches from both his brothers.

His life had lacked direction back then, and like many others, the army had seemed like the only way out.

It had made him who he was now – level-headed, responsible, disciplined. Someone his family could be proud of.

“That’s very selfless of you,” you say, shifting in your seat, causing the slit of your dress to open and give Albert a glimpse of your thigh.

He could get lost in the action alone, watching the expanse of your leg peak through the silk- it’s hypnotizing and entirely dirty, but he just can’t look away.

He swallows harshly, looking back up to meet your knowing gaze, a smirk playing on your lips. _Completely caught_. “Not entirely. I get good benefits too.”

You instantly laugh, the lightness of it cutting through the heady atmosphere. “I imagine those military discounts are no joke.”

You go quiet, another hum, before you swirl your whiskey around, glass heavy with condensation at being ignored for so long. You take a small sip before your face instantly scrunches up in distaste.

“Not up to your taste, sweetheart?” he chuckles.

There’s a shrug to your shoulders as you push the drink towards him, a gleaning lipstick stain on the rim of the glass. “Definitely not, but it seems like yours.”

He watches you curiously, considering. “Yeah, how’d you figure that?”

“Just happened to notice you finished yours earlier,” you say nonchalantly, but there’s a soft flush in your cheeks from your confession. “But you didn’t seem like the type to let a girl pay for your drink.”

“You’re not wrong,” he says, reluctantly taking the drink from you, somehow knowing fighting you would be an argument he wouldn’t win.

“Well, consider it a mutual exchange then. You get a new drink, and I get the pleasure of your company.”

That gains his attention and he finally lifts his head, trying to read your doe-eyed expression. He decides to risk it. “You sure it’s not just an excuse to stare at my lips like you’ve been doing this whole time?”

You only arch a brow, tilting your head to the side. “As if you haven’t been looking at mine all night.”

He turns a little more towards you, a knee daring to touch your own but not quite able to close the gap. “I would say it’s because I think you’re beautiful, but not sure how much it would mean. I’m sure you get it all the time.”

You only smile at him, a bit charmed. “Not from you I haven’t. Tell me all you want.”

“You’re very beautiful,” he says genuinely and he wants to reach out, lace his fingers with yours.

You don’t look up at him, but there’s a shy, pleased smile curling the corner of your lips. “Thank you.”

He eases into casual conversation with you after that, trading quips back and forth throughout the evening as you both learn more about each other. For every story you shared with him, he traded one back. Even a few about his time in Maine that he had yet to share with anyone else.

He had been away from home for years, but it didn’t mean he missed it any less. He was surprised he enjoyed sharing that part of himself with you. Maybe it was the way you listened to everything he said, holding on to every word that left his lips. Just as he did yours.

It wasn’t all homesick talk, either. More than once he finds himself gasping in laughter at your smart mouth. God, he hadn’t expected you to be such a spitfire, but wasn’t completely surprised about it either.

The more he learned, the more intrigued with you he was. The easy way you blushed under his gaze and compliments, made him want to experiment with all the ways he could make you flush so prettily.

He had never been an impulsive man; always took the time to think things through five times, sometimes more than that. A habit easily picked up after being handed responsibility for lives other than his own.

But here, with you? He found himself wanting to leap off that cliff. Consequences be damned.

He surprises even himself when he stands up and extends his hand to you. “Dance with me.”

Shit, he couldn’t dance. _What the fuck was he doing?_

You blink at him slowly, but before he can retract the offer, a smile overtakes your features and you’re hopping off the barstool, taking his hand. “Thought you’d never ask.” 

Clutching your small hand in his, he can’t help but notice the differences. The softness and smoothness of yours so far from his own large calloused one - rough and scarred from years of extreme exercise and weapon use.

His body is covered in those. Reminders of many battles fought.

You eagerly tug him through the crowd, weaving through people with reflexes that impress even him. A giggle escapes your lips as he twirls you into the floor, a customary introduction in these country bars. He’d learned that much, if anything.

He hesitates before wrapping his arms around your waist, catching your eye and quietly asking for permission. You nod and smile sheepishly before linking your hands behind his neck. He feels the curves of your waist as he sways with you to a soft country lullaby, and he can’t help but wonder what he did in this life to deserve this.

Here – happy and healthy, with a beautiful girl in his arms? He could want for nothing.

“I would have danced with you if you had asked me earlier, you know,” you say quietly.

He cracks a smile but decides to be honest. “Didn’t think a girl like you would give me the time of day.”

It was a fool’s hope to think you’d be interested in him. He was so many things on the side of wrong. A flashing neon sign above his head that read _Fucked_.

You bite your lip, eyes tracking his own and his body instantly reacts. “Anybody would be lucky to have you.”

And that simple statement stirs emotions in him that he definitely does not have the time to unpack right now. 

He takes a deep breath, trying to clear his head. “Mean that?”

“I do, actually,” you say, voice completely innocent in spite of the way your eyes roam him. “Even though I hardly know you.”

“Try me, sweetheart.” He licks his lips. “I’m an open book.”

“Hmm,” you step forward, pressing your body closer to his as you continue to sway with the music. “Why haven’t you been swept off yet? You’re obviously a catch.”

“I don’t know about that,” he laughs. “But my line of work makes it significantly hard to date.”

A quizzical brow. “You move around a lot?”

“Used to, not so much anymore. It’s become more stable, but that don’t mean it can’t go wheels up tomorrow. I don’t think it’s fair to ask someone to stop their life and wait for me when there’s a probability I won’t be coming back.”

“I think the right person wouldn’t care,” you murmur softly. “You’d be worth waiting for.”

“You volunteering?” He asks, his chin grazing the top of your head. He is so much taller than you, even standing as straight as you were and the heel of your shoes, your head still didn’t reach his chin.

“Cheeky,” you laugh against his chest. “But tempting, very tempting.”

He licks his lips, thumb moving against your hip. “I can be that too, if that’s what you want.”

You throw your head back in laughter, having absolutely no care in the world. He can’t help but watch in amazement, instantly fixated on the curve of your neck and the flimsy straps of your dress.

“I knew there was some charm underneath all those layers of broodiness and muscle.”

“Did I meet your expectations, then?” He asks, voice dropping low at the way you’re biting your lip.

You shake your head in a silent yes. Your eyes slant up, lupine and gorgeous, and looking at him with a hungry ease most people never give him. He usually gets polite smiles and nervous glances, peopled either awed or curious by his uniform. You just look like you want to tear his clothes off with your teeth.

He huffs a laugh, steeling his nerves as he sheepishly looks up at you. “What would you say if I asked you to leave with me?”

You had gone so still against him that he wasn’t sure if you even took a breath. His request had obviously shocked you, and for a second he wonders if he’s gotten it all wrong.

“I’ll be straightforward here. I’m not interested in a one night stand—”

“Neither am I,” he quickly interjects, sighing in relief. “I’m more of a flowers and dinner type of guy. Whatever happens after, I’ll leave up to you.”

You raise your eyebrows with a small twitch of a smirk on your lips. “You asking me on a date?”

Is that a twinge of hopefulness in your voice? It’s nearly hard to believe, but he latches on to it like a lifeline.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he pauses, looking for the right words. “I’m told I can be charming. I can manage entertaining you for a few hours, at least.”

“Flowers and dinner, huh?” Words come slowly but purposefully.

He, however, speaks immediately and woefully honest, with a knee-jerk reaction.

“Whatever you want.” He pulls you in closer until you’re face-to-face.

“A bit dangerous, making a statement like that.” You tease, but your eyes are shining brightly.

“No danger involved if it’s true.” An easy quip, walking the line of genuine and flirtatious.

You bite your lip to hide a smile. “Oh, you’re trouble. You are definitely trouble.”

He continues your playfulness and stands up straight, mimicking that commanding voice he saves for the field. “I promise ma’am, I was raised a good man.”

You laugh, but reach up and tug his collar down, bringing your faces close to each other again. “Yeah? Well mine warned me about handsome men in uniform.”

His eyebrows hitch a little higher at that. “Now that’s not fair, I’m giving you free reign. You say stop, we stop.”

“Not surprised you’re good at following orders,” you retort sassily. “Like being told what to do, huh?”

He feels the hot, tight shover curling its way down his spine. “With the right person, don’t we all?”

You hum thoughtfully. “A very tempting offer, indeed.”

“You’re going to make me get on my knees, sweetheart?” He said, voice low and thick.

“Depends on what you’ll be doing down there,” you wink.

Before he can quip back at you, your expression suddenly turns soft, almost shy despite your cheeky confidence moments ago. “I think I’d like a date, Albert.”

He swears it’s the best way his name has been said in a very long time. “Whatever you want.”

Neither of you speak after that, deciding instead to watch each other as you sway back and forth. Song after song plays, but he’s stuck in this moment with you. Quietly taking in your features, as you are his. The obvious thrum of passion courses through him as your eyes trace his own, following the line of his jawline, before finally falling to his lips.

The fairly lights dangling from the ceiling softly illuminate your pretty face, making you look like something out of his dreams.

Not trusting his mouth for anything, he pulls you closer and buries his cheek on your hair instead. Thankful for this moment of peace you’ve granted him.

Your gaze suddenly flicks over his shoulder.

“Your friends are staring,” you chuckle and he looks over his shoulder.

He groans and shakes his head because his friends are no longer paying attention to the game, but are rather sending him salacious winks as they gather up at the bar for another round.

“I’ll shut em down real quick if it’s bothering you.” He says, voice hardening and already preparing to go whip his guys into shape.

You pull him down by the collar, bringing your lips to his. “Or we could really give them something to talk about,” you whisper.

There’s a surprising amount of nerves going haywire in his body because his legs seems unusually shaky. But you’re there, batting those glittery eyes as you wait.

Floral perfume wafts up from your exposed neck and he nearly buckles over.

“I’ll do whatever you want me to do,” he says hoarsely. “As long as you’re sure about it.”

“Oh, I’m definitely sure.”

It’s the pique to your voice that does it, the upward lilt of the sentence falling from the tip of your tongue that sends him over the edge. You’re barely able to pull in a breath before his arms are around you, the emotions and dizziness that come with such a confession make him a bit bolder than usual. You suddenly move your hand to the back of his neck and pull him in -- his lips crashing into yours as he lets out a little gasp of surprise.

He catches up quickly, as he tightens the hold on your waist. Soft and slow, memorizing every part of this moment. He rubs small circles on your back just above your waist, feeling the silky material of your dress as you whimper and put your arms around his neck, bringing him in as close as you possibly can - because it’s not enough, it’s never going to be enough.

He distinctively hears his friends hollering in the background as you pull back.

“Hmm, you taste like trouble,” you say against his lips, your own curling into a wicked, smoky half-grin.

He rasps, jaw clenching at the heat going down his back. “Yeah? What does trouble taste like?”

God, your eyes are shining – dark and wild and absolutely drunk in desire. He’d bet anything his looked the same.

You were damn near intoxicating.

“Whiskey, peppermint,” you pause, humming sweetly and licking your lips. He follows the pink of your tongue, complete entranced as it practically plays in slow motion in front of him. “Perhaps a hint of cherry?”

“A hint?” A lazy smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. He leans forward, nose trailing along the curve of your neck, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

He feels a burst of confidence radiating from his body. It feels good, like things were actually turning in his favor – the storm cloud finally dissipating.

“Let me taste again? Just to be sure,” you say, voice slow-dripping and rich as honey. A smile seared right to his heartstrings as you breathlessly curl your hands into the front of his button-up and bring your lips to his once more. It’s soft and not as passionate as your first, but still more than enough to make him weak. “Yes, that’s definitely cherry Chapstick.”

He reacts instinctively then, moving his arms around you, pulling you so tightly against him that there’s no space between you. He kisses you again, keeps kissing you. He never wants it to stop, not with the rush of sensations flowing through him.

_God, it was good. So fucking good_.

And you two stand there, kissing and laughing for a good long while, enjoying the simple bliss of it all.

He knows there’s someone behind him before they even touch him. He reacts instantly, feeling the urgency in their movements. You gasp as he suddenly shoves you behind him, his fists already clenching and standing at full height.

John, one of his younger teammates, is breathing harsh as he suddenly pulls back from him. He offers Albert an apologetic look, knowing the way rapid movements affect him.

John barely gives you a dip of his head in recognition before turning his attention back to him.

“Hate to break this up man, but we got a problem at twelve.”

Albert looks him over, noticing his rumpled clothing and disheveled hair. Knowing what the problem is instantly.

He pushes his hand through his hair in frustration and disbelief.

“What that fuck did he do this time?” He asks roughly, feeling the muscles in jaw flexing.

John grimaces. “Guess a couple of guys made some comments about the redhead that he didn’t like.”

“Can’t you guys handle it? I’m kind of in the middle of something.” He says, already taking your hand and backing away.

Just one night. One night where he didn’t have to worry about anyone else but himself.

John huffs an indignant laugh, “You know he don’t listen to anyone but you.”

He halts, running his hand over his face. “How many has he got on him?”

“Just two, Jake and Liam got the other ones handled. But you know Ryan, he’ll keep going till he can’t no more.”

“Jesus Christ,” He implores.

Despite Ryan’s usual carefree attitude, he had the worst temper out of all of them. It was difficult to get him angry, but once it was done, there was no going back. He had a one-track mind and that’s what worried Albert most of all.

He’d had to intervene on his behalf more times than he could count.

A small hand land on his bicep and turns over his shoulder to look at you. A soft smile plays at your lips, full of understanding. “Albert, it’s okay. Go help your friend, I’m not going anywhere.”

He doesn’t want to leave, enjoying this haven you’ve created in the corner of the bar with him. It’s the lingering hope that burns his chest that maybe he stands a chance with you. Maybe he can win you over if he gets the nerve. Maybe you’d want to stay.

He just needed some more time. But he never had enough of that.

He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you in, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, sweetheart.”

You grab hold of his hand and place it on your face, lightly brushing it against your cheek and giving a pleasant mewl that has his weak in the knees. His heart thumps harshly in his chest and knows his eyes must be as dark as a wavering sea right now.

He brushes his fingertips across your cheek, reveling in the flush that lets him know it isn’t just him feeling this.

You lean forward, your mouth finding the underside of his chin, kissing lightly on his Adam’s apple. Nails find their way into his hair, scratching carefully against his scalp and neck.

And then you pull back just as quickly, dark eyes staring at him with a smirk.

Your eyes glint playfully. “I’ll be waiting, soldier.”

\----------------------------------------------

John leads him to the back exit, where Ryan and Lana had disappeared to earlier. He glances up and catches a glimpse of Lana through the open doorway leading to storage. She’s steading herself on the counter, her breaths deep and narrow.

What the hell happened?

John pushes the door open, but Albert shakes his head.

“I’ll handle Ryan,” he says, nodding his head towards Lana. John looks over and sighs, a concerned look on his face. “Make sure she’s alright.”

He steps into the night, the frigid November air giving him goosebumps. He follows the pained groans around the corner, halting in shock at the scene in front of him.

Liam is by the wall, throwing punch after punch at a stranger’s jawline, who is helplessly trying to push him away, but the strong forearm on his throat wrenching him incapable.

Albert’s gaze shifts, his attention turning to two bodies rolling around on the floor. The golden hair lets him know its Jake, trying to gain the advantage on his opponent.

And then there’s Ryan, who’s arms are being held behind his back by a guy, who looks like he does weights 24/7, while his friend throws punch after punch.

Albert could hardly discern the damage in the dark, but he could easily see the dark liquid pooling at Ryan’s knees.

Fuck.

He’s instantly on the guy beating on Ryan, burning fury covers his vision in a bang of unrelenting thrill. Albert welcomes it. Loves the jolt of adrenaline that runs through him at the prospect of a fight. To have an excuse to get it all out and hold nothing back.

Years of training control his movements. He moves methodically, knowing easily how to incapacitate, how to make a hit hurt enough that you wouldn’t have to hit again.

It was over before it even started.

Eyes harden to steel as he glares down at the guys’ blotchy red faces. Voice threading a thin line between cocky and dangerous. “You don’t ever lay a fucking finger on any of my guys again, understand?” he tuts with unbridled authority.

They both hesitate for only a moment, lips curling and arms around their side, trying to hold themselves up. They give a curt nod before leaving.

He turns around, ready to discern the damage done to his team.

Jake is still groaning on the ground, but knowing how melodramatic he is, Albert just gives him a harsh look. Jake instantly sits up and waves a hand his way. “I’m good, I’m up.”

Knowing the guys are okay, his attention shifts to Ryan, who’s still a bloodied mess on the ground. “You reckless son of a bitch.”

“Fuck,” Ryan groans, completely ignoring him. “Those motherfuckers got my nose.”

“Pretty bitchin’” he hears Liam acknowledge.

“That’s the least of your fucking worries,” Albert snaps. “This is the third time this month Ryan. You like getting your ass beat? Fine, but I’m done cleaning up your messes.”

“You should have heard the things they said about Lana!” He defends. “You know I don’t stand for that shit.”

“That’s the only reason you’re not getting written up.” Albert says. “Pick yourself up and go home. Now.”

Ryan’s got that agitated look about him now as he shakes his head, fists clenching – like he’s ready to start arguing. “It wasn’t like that,” he mutters harshly.

John shakes his head in disbelief, tsking softly under his breath.

“ _Ryan_ ,” Albert quietly stresses, settling his arms across his chest.

“Damn,” Liam draws the word out.

“Should we intervene?” Jake asks, sounding bored.

“No,” Liam says. “This is the best thing I’ve seen in awhile.”

Albert shakes his head slowly at the beginning of a headache forming behind his brow. “ _All_ of you need to go home. _Now_.”

Ryan looks like he’s rearing up for another comment, but stops short, the muscles in his jaw tightly bound. He simply nods his head at Albert before he picks his sweater off the floor and stomps off.

“Follow him, will ya?” he says to Jake. “Make sure he gets straight home.”

“Sure thing, Bishop.” Jake nods. “Have to go ice my fucking cheek anyway.”

“We’ll see you later man” Liam says, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Get back to your girl!”

He watches as they both run to catch up to Ryan, a limp on their step. Albert grimaces. Training this week was definitely going to be tough on all of them.

When he decides to check his watch, he reels back, realizing he’d been gone for longer than he thought.

He practically runs inside the bar, instantly making his way to where he’d last seen you. Searching for the color of your hair, the recognizable pattern on the silky dress that he’d felt on his fingertips not so long ago.

He searches the whole damn place. Hadn’t even realized it was closing time until it starts to clear out, receiving a few nods and farewells. He keeps looking, trying to find you in the heads of those leaving. But you were gone.

Probably left thinking he had skipped out on you. Guilt settles in his chest like a stone.

He hadn’t left a number, and now he’d probably never see you again.

He had missed his chance.

He walks home, hands in his jacket and head hung low. The warmth of the bar giving way to the misting rain of the darkened city streets. Illuminated only by the neon signs and streetlights.

There was no happy ending for him here.

_A life of fucking missed opportunities, indeed._

\------------------------------------------------------

It’s been two weeks since that night. Two weeks of walking around the neighborhood, grocery shopping, bar hopping, extra jogs. All in the hope of bumping into you.

Lana hadn’t seen you since that night either.

After his team had found out what happened, they had created a profile for him on a dating app. Fucking Loveland or something.

He had made the mistake of opening it up only once. After receiving a few inquiries for pictures, and a particular request to pose with his gun, he’d called it quits.

He hadn’t opened it since then, didn’t see the purpose. No one he’d met had had any luck with dating apps, and he really doubted he’d be an exception.

It’s his day off, and while still on call, it’s quite a rarity for him. He doesn’t much care for vacation days, becoming so used to routine that he spends most of his off days circling around his house trying to find something to do. He wasn’t much of a TV guy, and after going through several reps, he finds himself on his couch opening the app.

He swipes left on 6 profiles. All the guys and girls pretty good looking, but none he really likes or finds interesting enough to start a conversation with.

He’s practically swiping automatically at this point, not really paying attention to any of the profiles. That is, until one of them catches his attention.

_No. There was no fucking way. It couldn’t be._

But there you are, smile shining bright just like that night. Hair and makeup done all pretty for a picture that practically makes his heart stop.

He takes a deep breath, sending God a silent prayer before he swipes.

A pink background appears, hearts surrounding your picture.

_“It’s a match!”_

His eyes light up.

He is till trying to understand the utter madness of the situation, trying to decide whether he’s dreaming or not, when his phone dings from a notification. A new message.

“You’ve kept me waiting long enough, soldier.”

His heart soars.

**Author's Note:**

> This wasn't supposed to end up so country...but guess my roots are showing.  
> Thank you for reading!  
> Please comment. (I'm friendly, and I'd be happy to bond over a mutual love for Albert).


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